Fragility
by Skybright Daye
Summary: A five year old girl lies dying from her own mutation. The staff of Xavier's scrambles for a treatment. As her situation grows more dire, various X Men are driven to acts of faith, self examination, courage, sacrifice and kindness.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Fragility, Chapter 1

Rated: PG

Disclaimer: Shandra is mine. I secured the rest through Textual Poaching.

Summary: As a five-year-old girl lies dying of a rogue mutation, the staff of Xavier's scrambles to find a treatment. As her situation grows more dire, they are provoked to acts of courage, self-examination, sacrifice, kindness, and faith.

* * *

Shandra is burning.

She lies in a white bed in a white room, a long, long way from home; and she burns and burns with acid fire that runs through every limb. The sheets burn where they touch her and her eyelids burn against her eyes and her fingers burn where they hold Kitty, and the only thing that makes it better even a little is when the man everyone calls the Professor comes and talks without words in her head.

At first Doctor Grover (that's not really his name, just what she calls him – because he's blue and has fur like her favorite monster on _Sesame Street_) at first he tried to give her a shot to make the burning better. But the shot just burned her – and not only the needle; the medicine itself ran through her like fire on top of fire. Doctor Grover looked angry at that, and the Professor said it was because the burning is in something called her deeyenay, and the shot can't fix it.

Shandra wonders what deeyenay is, and why hers doesn't work right, why it burns when nobody else's does, and if she is going to die.

She wishes it didn't hurt so much to hold Kitty, because Kitty keeps bad monsters away (not good monsters like Doctor Grover) and Kitty loves her and Kitty is here even though Momma and Daddy can't be, and in five years Shandra has never ever been without Kitty for more than a few hours. But it still hurts to touch anything, even Kitty.

A man comes into the white room; at first Shandra thinks it's the Professor. But he's not sitting down, he's walking on his feet, and he's got dark hair instead of just skin like the Professor, and while the Professor makes Shandra think of smooth things like Momma's fur coat and vanilla ice cream, this man makes her think of Daddy's sandpaper beard and the way a real kitty's tongue used to feel on her hands.

The rough man stands looking down at her, not saying anything. He has deep, deep eyes that are sort of unquiet, but gentle, and he smells like the cigars her granddad smokes. Shandra likes him even if he doesn't make her stop hurting like the Professor does.

"Hi." It hurts to talk very much, she guesses because she has deeyenay in her throat too, but she doesn't want the man to think she can't talk or doesn't want to. She used to really like to talk, before all her deeyenay caught fire and started burning her to death.

He blinks at her. "Hi." He has a low, sort of growly voice like a bear might have.

"What's your name?" She wants to tell him that her voice isn't always croaky like a stupid frog, she even sang in the Christmas program last year; it's just that her deeyenay hurts and makes it hard to talk much.

He doesn't seem to mind; he just tips his head to one side and says "Logan. What's yours?"

"Shandra." _Shandra Lear_, she thinks, and wants to tell him how everyone laughs when they hear her name.

"Why are you crying, Shandra?"

She didn't know she was crying, she tries so hard not to; Shandra wants to be a big girl, she really does. Stupid deeyenay. "'Cos it hurts." He doesn't seem to know what she means, and first she wants to say _everything_ but that sounds like a baby, so she adds "To hold Kitty."

The rough man looks hard at Kitty for a minute and then looks at her, and then without saying nothing he moves across the room and rummages around in one of the drawers where Doctor Grover keeps needles and tape and things, and he comes back with a roll of funny-looking string.

He reaches up to the big light above Shandra's white bed, the one Doctor Grover shines hard at her sometimes when he's trying to fix her deeyenay, and he ties the end of the string around the light. Then _SNIKT _he makes a knife come _right out of his hand_, and Shandra can't hardly believe her eyes. He cuts the end of the string and the knife goes back into his hand, just like it was never there; and Shandra wonders if maybe there must be something wrong with his deeyenay too, because she's _never _seen anything like _that_ before.

The rough man puts out one of his big hands with the knives inside, and takes Kitty from her very very gently, and ties the string around Kitty's middle. Shandra can still see Kitty – he's right up above her – but it doesn't hurt as much any more without Kitty in her hands.

Shandra may only be five but Momma taught her her manners, so she smiles her best smile and says "Thank you, Mister Logan."

He gets a real funny look on his face then, like he almost wants to cry but doesn't know how to do it, and finally he just nods and says "You're welcome, kid," and leaves the room without another word.

Kitty twists back and forth a little, like a Christmas ornament, and Shandra smiles up at him, and even though the rough man didn't say things into her head like the Professor, it still doesn't hurt as bad. She wonders if the rough man and the Professor together could maybe make it really stop hurting, if maybe both of them plus Doctor Grover too could fix her deeyenay for good.

Shandra wonders if she'll ever stop burning.

* * *

To be continued in Chapter 2 . . . 


	2. Chapter 2

"So." Professor Xavier steepled his fingers and leaned across his desk, regarding Logan with those infuriatingly calm eyes of his. "You've had a chance to meet our patient."

Logan twirled an unlit cigar between his fingers – certain warnings regarding him beliving himself to be a six-year-old girl had taken permanent root – and frowned. "Yeah. She's a sweet kid." He raised an eyebrow at the office's other occupant, Doctor Hank McCoy. "So what's wrong with 'er?"

The blue-furred mutant shifted his weight and sighed. "Shandra represents a unique problem on several levels. For one thing, her X-Gene has activated without the presence of sufficient hormones, notably aldosterone and androstenedione, in her bloodstream – almost always a critical factor in successful mutation. Furthermore, the tension on a cellular level between her blood chemistry and her –"

"Hey." Logan interrupted brusquely, "English, bub. Like they speak in the real world."

McCoy blinked, shook his head in exasperation, and amended his speech. "Shandra's genetic code has rejected her X-Gene. Normally, this would mean that Shandra would carry the gene, without manifesting a mutation. But something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.."

"Shandra's X-Gene is, essentially, fighting back." Professor Xavier explained. 'The resulting struggle between her X-Gene's attempt to manifest a mutation and her body's attempt to suppress it are quite literally tearing her apart."

Logan grimaced. "What's gonna happen to her?"

"We believe we've found a way to tip the balance." McCoy said. "It's an incredibly risky solution, but it is the only one we have time for. Unless we act soon – I would say within the week – Shandra's physiology will become unable to withstand the stress of her condition. In English," He added, raising an eyebrow, "She'll die."

"I caught that, yeah." Logan looked to the professor. "Okay, Chuck, what's all this got to do with me?" A look of recognition flashed across his face, and he added "You thinkin' a blood transfusion, pour my healing factor into the kid?"

"If it were that simple, we'd already have completed the procedure." Hank McCoy shook his head. "A bone-marrow transplant would actually be the ideal solution. Unfortunately, even if we could bypass the adamantium coating of your skeletal structure, such an effort would be futile. You and Shandra are incompatible donors. You don't even have the same blood type – a blood transfusion alone, especially in her weakened condition, would do nothing more than kill her."

"So, what's the plan?" Logan's fingers flexed slightly. "You wouldn't have called me up here unless I had somethin' to do with it."

"While you and Shandra are incompatible for a bone marrow transplant," Professor Xavier said calmly, "Shandra and Rogue are not."

It took a moment for Logan to comprehend the implication of that. Once he did he scowled and stood, pushing his chair back. "Now hang on, Chuck. Marie doesn't retain the powers she takes – just the memories. She hasn't _got_a healin' factor any more." _Just my nightmares runnin' around in her head._

"Not at present." McCoy nodded his agreement, "However, I've had the opportunity to observe Marie's blood microscopically immediately after she exercises her ability. While she retains her blood type, and the other significant factors that make her compatible with Shandra, Marie's blood also exhibits the unique mutational qualities of the individual she has absorbed."

"The practical upshot of which is this." The Professor explained. "If Rogue were to use her ability to absorb your healing factor, we would then have a window – a very narrow window – wherein her bone marrow, her _compatible_ bone marrow, would also have the healing qualities unique to your blood. And those qualities might be enough to save Shandra's life."

"So Marie drains my ability, you drain Marie's bone marrow, and then you shoot both of 'em into the kid?" Logan looked incredulous. "That's crazy."

"Yes. It is." McCoy removed his glasses and polished them calmly on the sleeve of his labcoat. "Quite apart from the physical complications involved for all of you, there are the psychological implications of Marie absorbing your memories and psychological makeup for a third time."

"I've already spoken to Rogue about the dangers of this procedure." Professor Xavier interjected. "I will remain in telepathic contact with her during the encounter, to provide her mental barriers with the added strength to resist your . . . somewhat forceful psychic presence." His mouth twisted in a wry half-smile. "Of course, that is assuming that you, too, will consent to the attempt."

"And if I don't?" Logan crossed to the office window and gazed out over the school grounds, looking troubled.

One of the professor's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "Then we will continue to explore possible remedies for Shandra's condition, naturally."

"I thought the egghead said you weren't gonna find another cure."

"The egghead," Hank said archly, "Said exactly that. We have all the time in the world to look for solutions to this problem. It's Shandra who has no time."

Logan rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "Marie's already had me turned loose in her head twice, Chuck."

"Yes. I remember well the _charming_ effects you had on her personality the last time." Professor Xavier remarked dryly."However, Marie feels – and I agree – that the inevitable psychological impact upon her is outweighed by the urgent need to act. It will not be easy – or pleasant – for anyone involved."

"But," Logan turned from his position at the window, "It's the only way."

"It is the only way." Xavier agreed gravely.

Logan sighed . . . and nodded brusquely. "Okay. You can count me in."

* * *

To be continued in Chapter Three . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was a small world, and word travels fast in a small world -- particularly one populated by teenagers in general, and by Jubilation Lee in particular. So it was really no surprise, Ororo thought with mild exasperation, that everyone knew about the medical procedure which Jubilee's current roommate had agreed to take part in. Nor was it really surprising how focused the entire school had become on it.

The students whispered privately in the halls about the possible ramifications – how Rogue might turn into a hellion with a taste for troublemaking, how Logan might end up permanently linked to the young woman's mind, how Shandra would manifest an unbelievable mixture of Marie, Logan, and Professor X's mutant abilities.

What did surprise Ororo was what they _didn't_ include in their student gossip. What nobody whispered about was the possibility that Shandra might not survive the procedure, or that it might not work.

It was amazing, Ororo thought with sad astonishment. Despite all they'd been through, all they'd seen, in some cases all they'd _done_, none of her students really believed that a five-year-old girl could die. On the rare occasion when it came up, they dismissed it quickly, with the certainty only children possess. Professor X would foresee such-and-such complication. Marie would avoid doing this or that. Doctor McCoy would fix that problem.

They had so much faith in their teachers, their guardians. Their heroes. They had so much faith.

Ororo wondered if she was the only one who didn't.

She drifted past a small knot of students in the second-floor hallway, and – catching the whispered word _donation _– picked up her pace. She ducked into the school library and pushed the door closed behind her, closing her eyes and breathing in the calming scent of Old Books.

"Ororo?" a familiar voice startled her, and she turned to find Kurt peering at her over the back of a wingback library chair, brow furrowed. "Are you all right?"

Ororo sighed and gestured over her shoulder at the closed door and the students beyond it. "Fine. I just . . . needed a break. All I've been hearing about for three days is the . . . the operation tomorrow." _The one that might not work, probably won't work, and why do they expect that we can make everything okay?_

"_Ja_. It is all anyone can think about, it seems." The blue-furred German tilted his head and studied her as she crossed to face him. "You're so troubled. Why?"

Ororo trailed her fingers over the familiar leather spines of a row of books and said quietly "Because they all expect us – the adults – to save her, Kurt. And we might not be able to."

"Ah." Kurt nodded in sage agreement. "It_ is_ frustrating to be so powerless, when the children expect us to have power."

"What do you tell them, Kurt?" She raised a white eyebrow at him. "What _can _we tell them?"

Kurt shrugged and rose from his chair, setting aside the rosary he had held in his two-fingered hands. "I tell them that I, too, hope that it will be all right, but that I cannot promise them anything. And I tell them that I cannot save the girl – so I will ask of Someone who can. And I tell them that they might do the same."

Ororo gestured at the abandoned rosary. "You ask Him for help?"

"_Ja. _Every day. More than ever, these past few days."

Ororo shook her head sadly and looked away. "It won't work."

"You sound so sure." There was no condemnation in the words – only an unspoken question.

Ororo glanced sideways at Kurt, then looked away again. "I _am _sure."

Kurt said nothing: he just fixed her with those placid, incredibly golden eyes and lashed his tail slightly. Waiting.

Ororo sighed in frustration and crossed quickly to the library window, looking out across the sun-washed soccer field. Finally, after a long, reluctant silence, she spoke.

"Before I came here," She said quietly, "In Africa. I had a home in the Serengeti. My people . . . they worshiped me. Because I could control the rain. They thought I was a life-giver. A goddess."

Thick clouds had suddenly gathered over the playing field; one of the young soccer players, spotting Miss Munroe in the library window, gestured for his teammates to head inside. The white-haired woman said nothing for another long moment; when she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper.

"They brought me a little girl. Six years old. She fell on her father's spear. They . . . ." She laughed faintly, bitterly, "_They _wanted a miracle, too." Rain pattered against the windowpanes outside. Ororo squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I was twenty years old, and she died in my arms. Their prayers, their faith, their," Another bitter laugh, "Their _goddess _couldn't save her."

Kurt crossed silently to stand behind Ororo, touching her shoulder very lightly. "They asked more of you than anyone had a right to expect. They made you more than you were, and asked more than was within your power." He murmured.

Ororo made a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob. "And how do you know, Kurt, that your God is any less powerless than I was?" The words were a kind of plea. "How do you know He can help her?"

"Because He _is _my God, Ororo," The blue-furred mutant rubbed her arm gently. "He is not only a man, or a mutant. He is greater than we are, and there is nothing I can ask of Him that is beyond His power."

Ororo sighed and opened her eyes, frowning slightly at the rain that had gathered outside. She raised one hand and swept the clouds away into the sky, revealing bright sunlight once more. "And what if He doesn't save her?" The woman's tone had become suddenly challenging, her old pain buried under familiar bravado. "If He has the power and doesn't use it?"

Kurt shook his head sadly._ There is still so much anger in you, lovely one._ "Then I will ask for wisdom to understand why not, and the grace to accept it. What else can I do?"

Ororo turned to face him, her mouth twisting in a sad half-smile. "I wish I had your answers, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes searched hers for a long moment before he nodded. "I know. I pray for that, as well." He let his hand fall away from her shoulder and turned away.

"It won't help," She murmured again, less sure this time. Then she added "But I guess it can't hurt." She sighed as her friend retook his seat and reached for his well-worn rosary. "I'd better go. I have a history class to teach." Her friend nodded, already returning to his prayer beads. Ororo stepped quickly past him.

Kurt's voice stopped her at the door. "Ororo."

She half-turned. "Yes?"

"It will be all right, _liebling_. It will."

Ororo was quiet for a moment. Then she laughed faintly. "When you say it, I can almost believe it."

"Almost?" Kurt's mouth quirked into a teasing smile. "Well, I will take what I can get."

Ororo felt her own mouth twist in an answering smile. "Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt nodded, and Ororo slipped out into the hall.

_It will be all right, liebling._

"I hope so, Kurt." She whispered. "For all our sakes."

* * *

To be continued in Part 4. 


	4. Chapter 4

" . . . . an' Kitty and Rahne and Piotr all say to tell you they hope it all goes well, an' Pietro Maximoff says he wants your stuff if anythin' goes wrong, an' Wanda says to ignore her idiot brother an' good luck." Jubilee snapped her ever-present bubble gum and regarded her roommate keenly. "You gonna be okay?"

"Huh?" Marie glanced away from her own reflection; she'd been brushing her hair when Jubilee came into the room, but as the younger girl's litany of well-wishing had gone on Marie had found herself tuning out, merely staring at the girl in the mirror.

"I said, are you gonna be okay?"

Rogue sighed. "Yeah, Jubes, I'm gonna be all right. I could just use a minute alone."

"Say no more, chica." Jubilee snapped her gum again and threw off a mock-salute. "I'll see ya tonight, 'kay?"

"Sure thing." Marie turned back to the mirror and watched Jubilee's reflection leave. She took a few more swipes at her hair with the brush, then pulled the majority of it back into its customary ponytail. As always, she left the two white streaks free – like ribbons, or medals.

_Badges of honor_. The ghostly voice that whispered it was rich, accented, melancholy. Erik's voice.

_I like your hair like that._ Bobby's voice, more ghostly than Magneto's – she'd learned control between Magneto's touch and Bobby's kiss.

_Looks better down._ David Cody's voice, finally starting after all this time to fade away. Marie wondered if that meant that somewhere in Mississippi her first victim was finally starting to regain himself.

_Shut up._ Bobby's voice again.

_All ya'll shut up. _Marie thumped the hairbrush down and strengthened the mental shields Professor Xavier had helped her build to restrain her own psychic peanut gallery. She had to do that less and less often these days; with long practice the shields were beginning to stay up all by themselves – restraining and mostly silencing Bobby's voice and Erik's voice and David's voice and . . .

"Hey. You all right?" Logan's voice -- Marie was startled to see him reflected in the mirror, leaning casually against the doorjamb behind her. She turned.

"Fine. You startled me." _I thought you were only in my head._

"Sorry." He tilted his head and examined her. "You ready to go?"

"I suppose." She retrieved her gloves from the corner of the dresser and pulled them on, brushing a few stray hairs into place as she stood.

Logan moved aside and let her pass into the hallway, falling into step slightly behind her as they made their way toward the hospital wing. She could feel his scrutinizing look boring into the back of her neck, and made a frustrated noise. "Logan, stop looking at me like I'm gonna break. I'm ready for this. I am."

The Wolverine growled softly and quickened his pace to match hers. "You wouldn't be tryin' to bluff me, wouldja, kid?"

"Dangit, Logan, stay outta my head." She muttered, then quickly glanced sideway. "I . . . I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Logan just chuckled. "All right, fair enough. I'll let Chuck do the head-shrinking." He sobered. "But listen, kid, if you aren't ready to do this . . . ."

"I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." Rogue looked away. After a moment of silence she added "You wanna know somethin'?"

Logan raised an eyebrow at her.

"It . . . _that _ain't what I'm worried about." She tugged unconsciously at the hem of her left glove. "I mean, the Professor's gonna be there, and I've gotten better at controllin' it anyway. It isn't that."

"No?" He frowned. "Well, what is it?"

Marie fidgeted and flushed slightly. "We're talkin' about a _big _needle, Logan."

Logan stopped in his tracks. He'd been so concerned over the possible ramifications of Marie absorbing his personality that he'd never really thought about the medical aspect of the procedure."What, Hank can't put you under for that part of it?"

"No time." Marie shrugged and looked away. "Unless I absorb enough of your healin' factor to kill you. We gotta go quick." She caught Logan's scowl and added quickly "The Professor's gonna shut down the pain center in my brain – I'm not gonna feel anythin. It's just . . ."She shrugged again. "We're still talkin' about a Really _Big _Needle."

Logan flinched in sympathy – he had past experience with Really Big Needles, and no desire for anyone he cared about to have a similar experience. "I don't like that."

"I'm not too crazy about it, either." Marie took a deep breath and added "But I'm even less crazy about Shandra dyin', so let's go do this." There was a little bit of the ghost-Logan in those words.

The real Logan seemed to notice; he nodded and half-grinned at her and pushed open the door to the medical wing.

The halls here were white, cool, smelling of antiseptic; Hank McCoy looked up as the two of them entered the prep area, and nodded.

"Good, you're both here." He waved vaguely at several sets of white scrubs hanging from the wall pegs. "You're both going to need to put those on over your clothes – and you'll need masks and gloves as well." Hank gestured across the hall. "Come join the Professor and me in the surgery when you're dressed."

The blue-furred mutant ducked out of the room. Logan crossed to the scrub rack and pulled down a set of the white garments. "Well," He shrugged at Marie, "At least it ain't yellow spandex."

She grinned briefly, then turned back to exchanging her satin gloves for latex ones.

"Marie."

She turned, raising her eyebrows at him. "Yeah, Logan?"

"Don't watch Hank do it. Just . . . close your eyes and think about Georgia in the moonlight."

She snorted. "I'm from _Mississippi_, Logan."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." She reached out and grasped his hand in her own gloved one. There was nothing romantic in the action – just the gesture of two untouchable friends who had discovered that they still, sometimes, needed touch.

Logan squeezed her hand in reply. "You're a brave kid."

"I got that from you."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, speaking of which – if you really feel like you gotta sneak beer into the school fridge this time, at least don't make it _cheap _beer."

Marie slapped his arm. "Hey, it was _your _personality doing the shopping."

"My personality doesn't drink Coors Light." Logan replied gruffly. He squeezed her hand lightly and then let it drop. "Good luck, kid."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah. You too."

_Logan? Rogue?_ Professor Xavier's telepathic "voice" drifted through their minds. _We're ready whenever you are. _

_On our way._ Marie thought back, tugging a surgical mask over her lower face. She glanced at Logan, who was similarly masked, and squared her shoulders.

_Well, here goes nothing . . . ._

* * *

_To be Continued in Chapter Five . . ._

A/N: In the comicverse, Rogue's first victim was named Cody; in the Movieverse it's David. I've named him David Cody here to try and merge the two canons.


	5. Chapter 5

There's something big going on; Shandra can tell from the way Doctor Grover has been rushing in and out all day. He had a sweet boy with brown eyes names Colossus (isn't that a silly name?) bring in another bed to put next to Shandra's white bed, and a funny-looking chair to go on the other side. Now Shandra's bed is in the middle, like in the pictures where the Princess sits between the King and the Queen.

Shandra knows what's going on; even though the burning is getting worse and worse, and she's getting so tired she can't hardly pay attention to anybody, she did her very best to listen when Doctor Grover told her. Today's the day Shandra's going to have her operation.

Shandra knows what _operation _means; her big brother had his suspendix taken out last year, and he got to eat ice cream and play video games and Granddad – who smells like cigars, just like Mister Logan – came and read storybooks to Shandra and Brother all day while Momma and Daddy were at work. Shandra likes the idea of having an operation, because then she'll have ice cream, and she bets anything that ice cream would make the burning stop.

But before the ice cream comes the scary part, the part where Doctor Grover has to use a big needle to put new deeyenay in Shandra's arm. Doctor Grover explained how a friend of his is going to let Shandra have some of _her _deeyenay, and how Mister Logan is going to give her some of _his_ deeyenay, and Shandra thought about the patchwork quilt Grandmommy made her for her birthday. That's what Shandra is going to be – a deeyenay patchwork quilt.

She hopes this shot won't burn like the other one did.

Mister Logan comes into Shandra's white room again, and this time he's dressed all in white like Doctor Grover. There's a pretty girl with white streaks in her hair, too – that must be Doctor Grover's friend, Marie. Doctor Grover is already here, and so is the Professor.

The Professor has been talking without words into Shandra's head all day, making the burning better. He keeps talking to her as Doctor Grover has Mister Logan lean up against the funny chair next to Shandra's bed – the one that doesn't sit down all the way. It isn't really a chair, Shandra thinks; it's an up-and-down table like in the _Frankenstein _movie. She wonders if Doctor Grover will holler "It's ALIVE!" after the operation. That makes Shandra giggle just a little.

Shandra can see other people, too – there's a blue man with funny gold eyes and a tail like Kitty, and a sad woman with all-white hair. They stand in the hallway together, almost-but-not-quite touching each other as they look through the big glass door into Shandra's room. The blue man has rosie beads like Momma's that he click-click-clicks as they stand there. Shandra wants to wave at them, because it was awful nice for them to come and see her – but she's so tired, and the burning is too bad, and she can't make her arms work very much any more. She just smiles, and the blue man smiles back, and waves his funny Mister-Spock hand at her.

Meanwhile Doctor Grover has been darting back and forth, looking at that funny box that keeps beep-beeping above Shandra's bed, and taking _big _needles out of the drawers, and saying lots of things to the Professor that Shandra can't make head or tail out of. The Professor has moved his big wheeled chair to the head of Shandra's bed, so she can't see him – but she can still feel his soft no-words voice going inside her head.

Now Doctor Grover comes back over to Shandra's bedside. He fiddles around at the sides of the up-and-down table Mister Logan is leaning on and pulls out big, black straps. Mister Logan growls, an angry-dog growl, and he grabs Doctor Grover's wrist, and Shandra is suddenly afraid that the knife will come out of Mister Logan's hand again like it did when he cut Kitty's string.

But all that happens is that Doctor Grover makes his voice real soft -- like he does when he's taking Shandra's blood. "To hold you _up_." He says, "Not _down_."

Mister Logan stares hard at Doctor Grover with those deep, unquiet eyes, and Shandra thinks that deep down in the unquiet there's just a little bit of scared. But finally he nods and lets go of Doctor Grover's wrist and lets Doctor Grover put one of the straps over his chest and another across his middle.

Once that's done Doctor Grover has to fix up the needle for Shandra's arm; and for that he needs his big white light, the one above Shandra's bed.

The one Kitty is hanging from.

Before Shandra knows what's what, Doctor Grover takes Kitty down from his string and moves him way across the room to where Shandra can't hardly see him.

Suddenly things aren't nearly okay, suddenly they're a lot more scary, and Shandra whimpers. She's trying to be a big girl, she really really is, but she hurts and she's tired and she wants Kitty. She can't do an operation without Kitty.

Mister Logan hears her whimper, and says something to Doctor Grover, so quiet Shandra can't hear him – it's getting so hard to listen over the burning. But whatever he says makes Doctor Grover smile, so his sharp white teeth show; and he brings Kitty back and hands him to Mister Logan.

Mister Logan still can move his arms around – the strap goes under them, not over them. He holds Kitty up so Shandra can see him, and then he says real soft "Don't you worry, kid. The Kitty's not goin' anywhere."

Shandra's getting awfully tired, and it takes a lot of energy to smile – but Momma taught her her manners, and she smiles her best smile and says "Thank you, Mister Logan."

Doctor Grover looks at the pretty girl with white streaks in her hair. "We're ready to begin." He says quietly.

The pretty girl nods and comes over and stands in front of Mister Logan, and for a long minute she doesn't say anything – just looks at him. She looks like she's taking a deep breath before she jumps into a swimming pool.

Then she looks over at the Professor and she nods, and she pulls off one of her white gloves and puts her fingertips real gently on Mister Logan's face.

Shandra doesn't understand what happens next. Mister Logan's whole body goes stiff and bends kind of backwards, and his deep, deep eyes roll white, and he makes terrible noises like _he's_ burning, too. His big rough hands tighten around Kitty's middle just like Shandra's do after a nightmare. Pretty Marie is kind of gasping like she needs more air – like she's breathing in Mister Logan. Huff, puff, like the big bad wolf . . .

Shandra's heart flutters in terror, like a bird trapped in her chest, and all she can do is move her hand, just a little bit, towards Mister Logan and Kitty. _It'll be all right, Mister Logan,_ she wants to cry out, _Just hold Kitty, Kitty makes the burning better, just hold on . . . . _ She can't understand why this is happening; Doctor Grover didn't say that Mister Logan would get hurt, Doctor Grover didn't explain any of this . . .

And then as quickly as it started it's over – pretty Marie tears her fingers away from Mister Logan's face, and sort of hunches over like she's still catching her breath. Mister Logan slumps back against the table, and Doctor Grover was right – the straps _do _hold him up. He takes deep, sort of weak breaths and closes his eyes that have gone dark again. He holds Kitty cradled against his chest.

Everything that happens next is a blur. Doctor Grover helps Marie up onto the bed on Shandra's left, and pats one of her hands (the gloved one). Out in the hallway Shandra can see that the sad, white-haired woman has turned away, and the blue man has his rosie beads held in his tail now, because with his hands he's cradling the sad woman's head against his shoulder, and holding her, and crooning soft things that Shandra can't hear . . .

Doctor Grover has a needle now, a big one, and Shandra's not sure if he means to stick it in her or in pretty Marie. Shandra's crying, now, she can't help it; and the box above her head won't quit beep-beep-beeping, fast and fluttery like her heartbeat. And everything still burns . . . .

_Hush._ That's the Professor, his talking-without-words voice in her head. _Hush, sweet child. Go to sleep._

Shandra feels darkness wash up around her, like warm water; the burning doesn't stop, but it gets all distant and fuzzy, and the beep-beep-beeping slows down, and she feels herself sinking. But she still reaches out one small hand toward the upright table on her right . . .

_Mister Logan . . ._

_Kitty . . ._

And then Shandra feels nothing . . . .

To be continued in chapter six.


	6. Chapter 6

It was quiet in the med bay without Shandra.

Even though (in those last few days before the procedure) she had lacked the energy to speak very often, Hank McCoy still missed the sound of her voice. Her intuitive, bright-for-her-age questions. The particular timbre of her voice calling him "Doctor Grover" (_charming girl_).

He missed the sight of the battered plush lion – "Kitty" – hanging from the light above the bed. He wondered at the level of childlike faith that could imbue such a simple object with the power to banish – for a few moments, anyway – inhuman levels of agony and terror.

When he came into the med wing every morning, Hank still stood for a moment in the door of the empty white room – out of instinct, perhaps – before moving further down the hallway, to the lab with its screens and tubes and centrifuges. There he spent his busy research hours bent over the fragments the girl had left behind her – the bone marrow and blood samples, the minuscule baroque patterns of her DNA. Trying to understand what happened. Trying to be ready for the next one.

Beast he may have been; but underneath the fur, the fangs, and (scariest of all) the lab coat, he was still what Shandra had gleefully called "a good monster". And he missed his patient – his _friend_.

_Hank?_ The Professor's telepathic call drifted through the mansion's halls and into his mind, _Hank, we could use your assistance in the courtyard. The fountain. _

The note of worry in the telepathic call was faint, but there – unmistakably there. Hank pushed back quickly from his microscope and dashed out of the lab, out of the med wing – pausing only to grab his emergency kit. Kids will be kids, and he was the School's primary physician – a broken bone or a sprained ankle or (heaven forbid) a powers-related injury was just as much his responsibility as his research.

Hank bolted out of the school doors and took the steps to the courtyard four at a time – advanced agility had its definite uses. He arrived, somewhat breathless, in the fountain courtyard to discover Professor Xavier, a small knot of students – and one petite, familiar figure perched, soaking wet, atop the fountain.

"Shandra?"

The five-year-old peered down from her perch, giggled gleefully, and waved one gloved hand. "_Hi_, Doctor Grover!"

Hank sighed and buried his face briefly in one palm. _And you _**_miss _**_having her in your med bay? _"Shandra, sweetheart, we discussed your flying without supervision, didn't we?"

The girl's eyes went wide. "Sure, Doctor Grover, but I _wasn't _without stupervision." She pointed one small finger. "Mister Logan was watchin' me!"

Hank glanced reprovingly at 'Mister Logan', who was standing impassively to one side, arms crossed. "Well?"

A brief smile flashed over Logan's stoic face, and he shrugged one shoulder. "Kid did four barrel rolls and a perfect landin' in the fountain." He remarked dryly.

"Yeah!" Shandra chirped. "Only, now, see, I kindasorta can't climb down, and the flyin' doesn't all the way work, even though I reallyreally been practicin', and I thought, maybe," she looked sheepish, "That you could sorta come get me?"

Hank chuckled deep in his barrel chest and handed his medkit off to one of the students. "Certainly, dear lady. Your rescue is at hand!"

Two brief leaps and a quick scramble brought him to the top of the fountain, and Shandra threw her thin arms around his neck in a fierce embrace. "Oh, _thank _you, Doctor Grover!"

"You're welcome," Hank replied, gingerly descending the still-running fountain, "Only promise me you'll land strictly on the ground from now on."

"Okey-doke." Having reached the ground level of the fountain, Shandra hopped nimbly off of his back and splashed her way to the edge, then scampered to Logan's side. "I still did reallyreally good, though, right?"

The Canadian nodded and said, with gruff tenderness, "Yeah, kid, you did good. Now go get some dry clothes on before Storm takes it outta both our hides."

"Kay." She beamed and raced off toward the mansion, leaving a trail of wet footprints.

Hank, for his part, had retreated a short distance from the crowd; he shook himself vigorously, shedding the worst of the water from his fur, and then retrieved his medkit.

"Just think," Professor Xavier said with dry amusement, "Next year you'll have her in your elementary science course."

"Hmm. Something to look forward to." Hank nodded. "I'll be heading back to my lab, now – call me if you've any more damsels in distress."

* * *

Ororo smiled and turned away from the library window, having observed the entire scene – including Shandra's vicarious (if somewhat unstable) flight. It was hard to believe how quickly the girl had recovered. One day she had been near death – and in fact Ororo had been certain, in those tense hours as Hank had performed the bone-marrow transplant, that the girl would die. She'd buried her face in Kurt's shoulder, fighting back painful memories and fresh fear; Kurt had stroked her hair, and murmured comforting half-words and what she thought were prayers in German. It had been a terrible, endless time.

And now, seemingly overnight, Shandra was laughing and bolting around the School, flaunting her newly-acquired power of flight and tagging along relentlessly behind Logan (when she could find him) or Marie (when the Wolverine managed to evade her). She'd even taken to wearing a tiny pair of white gloves, and proclaiming her desire to be "just like pretty Marie". Shandra was thriving.

Ororo hadn't seen Kurt since.

Oh, they'd met in the halls, crossed paths in the kitchen; but Ororo had hardly encountered him otherwise. It was almost like he'd left the school.

As if on cue, there was a muffled **_bamf!_**, and the library filled with coils of dark-purple, brimstone-smelling smoke. Kurt stood in the midst of the smoke, balancing a stack of books and smiling at her somewhat apologetically.

"Sorry, Ororo. I didn't know anyone would be in here."

"It's fine." She waved her hand and a light breeze wafted the smoke away. "You've been keeping out of sight," she remarked, as Kurt moved to put the stack of books on a nearby shelf. "Here, let me . . . ."

Kurt nodded in gratitude as Ororo relieved him of some of the textbooks. "_Ja_, I have been busy." He shook his head and used his tail to reshelve a book with heavy gothic lettering on the spine. "I cannot get Angela to conjugate her dative verbs correctly. And Colossus," He chuckled, "His accent is terrible. He speaks German like a Russian."

"He's from Siberia, Kurt," Ororo replied, amused.

"_Ja_, I know. That does not make it any easier." The blue-furred mutant shrugged good-naturedly. "It is God teaching me patience. Again."

Ororo made a noncommittal noise and slid a few more books into place. "It's good to see you."

"And you." Kurt smiled at her. "Do you know that Shandra decided that my nickname should be 'Kitty'?"

Ororo bit back on a laugh. "What did you tell her?"

"That we already have one _k__ä__tzchen _at this School, and she is much better suited to the name." He made a dismayed face. "I am not sure that will stop Shandra."

This time Ororo did laugh. "She's settling in well. She fits in here – and the way she runs around, you'd never know she was so sick . . ."

"_Ja_. I am grateful that God has healed her." Kurt murmured distractedly, stretching to replace a book on the top shelf.

Ororo shook her head slightly. "Logan and Marie healed her," She said, in what she thought of as her voice-of-reason-voice, "And Hank. You were _there_, Kurt."

"Ach, Ororo." Her friend chuckled gently and shook his head. "How is it we looked at the same thing, and yet we saw so differently? _I _saw God's hands moving to help that child."

He tilted his head and studied her, eyes glittering with gentle amusement. "None of us are gods, _liebling_. But is it so very hard for you to believe that some of us might be His instruments?"

Ororo took a long moment and slipped the last of her books back onto the shelf before she replied softly, "No. Not . . . not when you say it."

"And perhaps," Kurt grinned, "Perhaps that is the way in which I am His instrument." He set the final book on the shelf and turned for the door.

"Maybe." Ororo smiled back. "Where are you headed?"

"The kitchen." Kurt chuckled. "Word has spread – the whole Beginning German class wants me to make pancakes." He took a few more steps, then turned and held out his hand. "Will you walk with me?"

"Of course." She let him hold the library door open for her; it closed behind them with a solid, muffled sound.

Nobody was left in the library; if they had been, however, only moments would have passed before they heard Ororo's muffled voice exclaiming from beyond the door.

"Shandra – _no flying in the halls_!"

**_The End_**

* * *


End file.
